


Look Not with the Eyes

by adverbally



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, F/M, MFMM Year of Quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbally/pseuds/adverbally
Summary: “There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time.”  ― Jane AustenJack learns about Phryne's amazing capacity for all kinds of love throughout the course of their partnership.





	1. Philautia and Agape

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really challenging myself with this one! I'm sure six vignettes of 500 words each doesn't sound like very much, but it's kind of intimidating for a struggling graduate student. I'm hoping I can get it finished by the end of the month. Fingers crossed!
> 
> The outline is based on six Ancient Greek words for love. However, [my source](http://www.yesmagazine.org/happiness/the-ancient-greeks-6-words-for-love-and-why-knowing-them-can-change-your-life) is not academic or super trustworthy, so take these categorizations with a grain of salt. 
> 
> The title is based on a quote from Shakespeare, of course. "Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind..."

###### Philautia, or love of the self

From the moment he first saw her on the other side of Lydia Andrews’ bathroom door, Jack knew that Phryne Fisher was no wilting flower. His constable may have been fooled, but it was clear to Jack that Miss Fisher’s initial naiveté was an elaborate act, put on as much for her own amusement as for her benefit. There was a glint in her eyes as gave her insincere apologies for trespassing. A practiced liar, Jack determined, emboldened by a lifetime of experience. 

Her refusal to leave the crime scene suggested that Miss Fisher was a woman who was used to getting her way, as those high society types so often were. It would have been easy for Jack to write her off, to take one look at her fashionable dress and perfectly-applied makeup and decide that she was just another vapid heiress looking for clues to fuel her tea-time gossip, albeit one with the courage to risk arrest. Except…

The “wild surmise” she presented regarding the cause of death was spot-on. Apparently there was a brain beneath that ridiculous pink hat, and one that worked more efficiently than Constable Collins’ at that. Her intelligence surprised Jack. He knew more than his fair share of educated women, but there had to be more than book smarts behind Miss Fisher’s quick thinking and sharp wit. 

Just when he thought she couldn’t perplex him any further, Miss Fisher settled back into her best impression of an ingénue. She must have known that it would be wholly unconvincing after her impressive analysis of the murder, but she persevered in widening her eyes and delicately brushing her hair away from her face. The way she all but purred his name as she read it from his card was like a bad caricature of the vain woman she was pretending to be, but there was something there that hinted at true desire, something that promised that she could have him too if she wanted him.

Even after she left the room, Jack could still feel her gaze lingering on him like a physical presence. She had looked him up and down almost leisurely, flicking her eyes back up to his to twinkle in approval. She didn’t break eye contact, even as she walked past him, and her self-satisfied smile told Jack that Miss Fisher had gotten much more from this exchange than he had. 

Jack didn’t believe that Miss Fisher had any connection to the crime; he had seen killers with her intelligence before, and she was nothing like them. She had confidence in spades, to be sure, but it wasn’t arrogance. She clearly thought very highly of herself, but it wasn’t entirely unjustified. She was whip-smart and gorgeous, even if her acting wasn’t the most convincing. 

Despite himself, Jack was impressed by her. He had the feeling their paths would cross again during the course of the case, and part of him was eager to go toe-to-toe with Miss Fisher again on his terms.

 

###### Agape, or love for everyone

Jack lingered in the doorway of Phryne’s parlor, silently observing the whirlwind of her birthday party. Strangely, he didn't feel like he was intruding on the festivities, as he had anticipated he would. He was comfortable here, keeping watch in the corner, only breaking his silence to wish Prudence Stanley and her son goodnight as they left.

As he watched Phryne flit from guest to guest, he thought about how quickly she had proved him wrong. Looking at the family Phryne had assembled for herself, Jack felt ashamed of his assumptions. She couldn’t be farther from the vapid troublemaker she had first seemed, not when her heart was big enough to encompass all manner of outcasts. 

Phryne enveloped Dot in a warm embrace, laughing delightedly all the while, and Jack couldn’t help but remember how she had taken the young woman into her employ when she had lost her job. It was the kind of warm generosity Jack had seen her exhibit again and again. Adopting Jane despite her distaste for children, offering her home to Veronique Sarcelle during her visit to Melbourne, openly accepting Mac’s romantic inclinations... Phryne never failed to take an opportunity to offer her help to women who needed it.

Her attitude was surprisingly similar when it came to the working class. As begrudgingly as they had come into her employ, Bert and Cec remained loyal to Phryne because she treated them fairly and and without condescension. Her regard for Mr. Butler and his talents seemed to come from a place of respect for his profession as much as her personal appreciation for the man’s service. 

Jack couldn’t help but wonder about the extent to which Phryne’s attitudes stemmed from her difficult life, with her knowledge of the pain of poverty and the memories of the hardships she faced as a young woman on her own. He still struggled sometimes to reconcile that side of her with the carefree, spirited woman he knew. 

Even now, having just put away the man who murdered her sister and tried to do the same to her, Phryne seemed so removed from the horrors they investigated together. As he watched her spin around her parlor in her sparkling gown, Jack marveled at her resiliency. She practically glowed with happiness in the company of her loved ones, and he hoped that she would never lose that joy, no matter what she faced.

Almost as if his thoughts had summoned her, Phryne sauntered over to him, the furred hem of her wrap swinging around her ankles. She held up a fresh glass of champagne. “Another drink?” she asked, arching her brow invitingly.

“Yes, thank you.” He took the glass and tilted it toward her in a salute. “Though it seems wrong for you to be waiting on guests on your birthday.”

Phryne grinned. “Guests? You’re family now, Jack.” 

As he watched her dance away, Jack wondered if the flutter in his chest was from the champagne or the warmth of Phryne’s smile.


	2. Philia and Ludus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are a little more tangentially related to the different kinds of love, but I've rewritten them both several times and I hate to keep you waiting any longer!

###### Philia, or deep friendship

Sharing the window seat with her in the afternoon sunshine was unusual considering how their usual post-case nightcaps went, but Jack was enjoying the change. The way Phryne sat, her knees tucked against her chest with her brightly-colored drink in hand and her blinding smile, made her look younger than usual. It was comfortable, the kind of informal pose that Jack had seen her use among her closest friends.

It still felt strange for Jack to be counted among that group. While he and Phryne had quickly forged a strong working relationship despite many complications, their friendship had taken longer to develop. Solving her sister’s case had brought them closer, but even that somehow paled in comparison to the intimacy of sitting together in broad daylight, talking about their childhood dreams. 

The delight on Phryne’s face as she had listened to Jack recounting the adventures of his youth was so different from her usual joy. There was something deeper there, like she was relishing every detail he told her. Jack knew that his private nature frustrated her at times; the detective in her was always looking for clues, keeping close track of every crumb of information he let slip. 

It was humbling to realize that the most interesting person in Australia wanted to know all about him. Jack still didn’t feel quite worthy of her attention, but her sparkling eyes encouraged him to carry on. There was a vulnerability in Phryne’s unabashed excitement that compelled him to reveal more of himself. It was like watching her on the stage of the Imperial Club. Seeing her bare herself had made him want to do the same, albeit less literally.

It almost reminded Jack of the other night, in Phryne’s private parlor at Hilly McNaster’s house. She had been radiant in her simple white dress, and she had seemed lighter, made buoyant by the sea breeze drifting through the window and the joy of teasing him over a murder investigation. The warmth of the day barely wilted her, only softening her posture to something slightly less regal as she draped herself across the chaise. 

Seeing her so relaxed had made it easy for Jack to pour her a glass of smuggled champagne and let her flirt and flaunt her ill-gotten gains. He felt the same ease now, telling her about selling off his uncle’s coins to buy a bicycle. Jack knew she would understand the impulse, the need to find freedom wherever you could. He imagined her as a child, a pirate girl of Collingwood, watching him race by on his rusty old bicycle and wishing she could join him. It seemed impossible that their paths might have crossed, but he liked the thought.

Phryne smiled at him. “To pirates, adventurers, and boys on bicycles,” she said, raising her glass in a toast. 

It was as if she had read his mind. As their glasses clinked together, Jack felt the vibration through his fingers and wondered if she could feel it, too.

 

###### Ludus, or playful love

“Game, set, and…” Phryne tilted her head, grinning broadly. “Murder solved.”

Jack’s answering smile was one of relief. Phryne’s high spirits signified yet another step in their return to normal. After the chaos of the past month and the jealousy that had been dredged up by her father and Compton and Concetta, the return of her mischievous side was comforting to Jack. It meant he no longer had to be so careful around her, navigating his own envy and her need for… well, to be honest, he still wasn’t quite sure what she needed. 

In a way, he supposed, it was less about returning to normal and more about moving their relationship forward. It was strange how much this uncharted territory hearkened back to the the earlier days of their friendship-- the teasing between them, the lingering glances, the way his stomach flipped when she looked at him. In some ways, things hadn’t changed much between them, but at the same time, Rosie’s words echoed in his head. 

It absolutely was different the second time around. 

Now that he had gotten past the initial panic of realizing he was in love with her, Jack was excited to explore everything Phryne could make him feel. Most notably, he was delighted by his newfound ability to surprise her, and it seemed that she felt the same. It had come up time and again on this case. It was in the way her pleasant astonishment at being made a special constable had melted into a softer kind of awe when he pinned his Buffalo Bill badge onto her lapel. It was in her delighted laughter and the spring in her step as she returned his volleys during their tennis match. 

Jack had to admit that it was gratifying for the tables to be turned for once. How often had he been caught off guard by some talent or interest that Phryne claimed out of nowhere? Even her fears were unexpected. The thought of the indomitable Phryne Fisher being afraid of something as common as spiders was so mundane that it was almost ridiculous. Yet these facts were quickly becoming his favorite parts of her. Her hidden passion for women’s tennis and her unease in the presence of arachnids were details that few people were privileged to know about her, but she trusted him with those parts of herself.

“All right, you won, fair and square,” Phryne sighed, pulling Jack back to reality. “I’m willing to concede defeat, just this once.” Her eyes sparkled as she held out her hand. 

“Let’s call it a postponement of my humiliation,” Jack suggested, shaking her hand firmly. “I’m sure you’ll beat me at my own game soon enough.”

“And what game would that be?” She pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head. “Wait, don’t tell me, I’d rather be surprised.”

It was a frightening idea, but Jack thought that he could be perfectly happy spending the rest of his life surprising Phryne Fisher.


	3. Eros and Pragma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my friends! I'm a little past my self-imposed deadline since I'm finishing the February challenge almost halfway through March, but real life will do that sometimes. Can you believe this is my first completed multi-chapter fic? It's all thanks to my awesome readers! I've gotten so many lovely, encouraging comments on this story, so thank you for helping me see this through. I can't wait to come up with something else to share with you!

###### Eros, or sexual passion

The voyage from Australia to England had given him plenty of time to mull over the possibilities of what their reunion might entail, but Jack hadn’t anticipated how tender Phryne’s touch would be. 

It was as if he could feel her every thought in the gentle touches of her fingertips. Her nerves trembled against the swell of his bicep as she pushed his shirt from his shoulders. Her excitement stuttered across his chest as she explored the newly-bared skin. Her desire whispered against his lower lip as she swiped away the traces of her lipstick with her thumb. Even the way she let Jack undress her spoke volumes, making her passivity an active expression of her trust in him.

It made perfect sense when Jack thought about it. Phryne had the biggest heart of anyone he had ever known. Why shouldn’t that be as evident in her lovemaking as it was in everything else she did? It was clear in the way her eyes kept flicking to his face, checking to make sure he was comfortable. This was another way for Phryne to take care of someone she loved. Of him. The idea made warmth bloom in Jack’s belly, further sparking his arousal. 

His delight must have shown on his face. Phryne pulled away from where her lips were leaving new marks against his cheekbones to meet his gaze. “What’s so funny?” she asked, looping her arms around Jack’s neck to hold him close. 

The feeling of so much of her bare skin against his was quickly erasing every rational thought from his mind. “You love me,” he said without thinking. 

“I do,” Phryne agreed, smiling brilliantly. “Let me show you how much.” 

Jack couldn’t refuse her, not when he was bursting to do the same. He let her lips roam almost every inch of him, from his lips to his jaw, up to his ear, down his neck to his shoulders, across his chest, inching lower and lower until she sank to her knees and took him into her mouth. When he began to tense, she pulled away, and he let her kiss him until the taste of him on her tongue had faded, until his patience ran out and he settled himself between her thighs to return the favor. He let her climb into his lap and sink onto him, achingly slowly, rocking against him until they both reached their peaks. 

He didn’t stop touching her the whole time, gentle, chaste touches that felt inadequate in the face of the pleasure she gave him-- tangling a shaking hand in her hair as she sucked him, cupping her jaw as he kissed her, anchoring himself with his grip on her thighs and hips. 

Later, when they lay together on the damp sheets, laughing out of sheer exhausted giddiness, Phryne twined her fingers with Jack’s and squeezed. It was a simple gesture, but it felt more intimate than anything else they had done that evening.

He squeezed back without hesitation.

 

###### Pragma, or longstanding love

Jack strolled into Phryne’s bedroom from the adjoining bathroom, still fiddling with his hair. He wasn’t surprised to find Phryne still sitting at her vanity, carefully applying her lipstick.

There was something off about her movements, something unsure and decidedly not like Phryne that made Jack frown. Phryne rarely let anything faze her, especially not within the sanctity of her boudoir. Jack associated this room with Phryne’s power and confidence, with intimacy and comfort; it seemed wrong to see her so nervous.

Jack cleared his throat, noting how Phryne jumped slightly. “Are you almost ready? They’re supposed to be here in twenty minutes.”

From the glimpse of Phryne’s panicked expression he caught in the mirror, he guessed that she was far from ready, but he had to admire her bravado when she turned to tell him, “Almost,” in the falsely-casual, high-pitched tone she used for untruths. 

Jack sighed. It was obvious. As much as Phryne pretended to be perfectly calm about meeting Jack’s parents, she had been acting strangely for the past week. She had changed the dinner menu three times, to Mr. Butler’s chagrin. She had virtually emptied her closet the previous day in an attempt to choose her outfit. Now she was obsessively running her brush through her perfectly smooth bob, fussing over some imperfection that Jack had no hope of finding. 

“Phryne, they’re going to love you,” he reminded her for the twentieth time. “They’ve been dying to meet you since I first told them about you.”

Phryne’s shoulders slumped as she sat her brush down. “I know, I just… I’m not good at this.”

“What are you talking about?”Jack frowned at her. 

“I don’t know how to meet someone’s parents!” Phryne exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “And it’s worse because they’re _your_ parents and I want them to like me because they’re important to you.”

Jack crossed the room to stand behind her, running his hands up and down her bare arms. “They don’t stand a chance. You’re just too charming.” He leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Not to mention insanely beautiful and intelligent and altogether any parent’s dream.”

Phryne snorted indelicately. “Assuming your parents don’t mind you living a life of unwed scandal.”

“They’re more concerned with my happiness, and they’ve been able to tell how happy you make me much longer than I have.” Jack smiled at the memory of his mother’s hints at matchmaking. 

He saw Phryne’s reflection smile too, but it was bittersweet. “You’re lucky to have them, Jack.” 

“I am. And I’m lucky to have you, especially since you’re prepared to suffer through dinner with them.”

“The things we're willing to do for love,” Phryne sighed dramatically. Steeling herself, she rose from her vanity seat and fluffed her skirt. “All right, I’m ready.”

“That’s the spirit.” Jack offered her his arm. His chest still fluttered when she took it, as it always had, and he prepared to guide her into their next adventure.


End file.
